Torrent
by LunaEquus
Summary: The torrent of tears challenges the pounding rain, and Kartik is left swimming for the surface again. Oneshot. UPDATED!


**Okay, so I had completely forgotten that I had altered this and used it in my creative writing portfolio. (Totally pwned that class by the way!) I was putting stuff on to my FictionPress account (Rakshana) when I found this again. I think it's a lot better now.**

The rain falls so heavily that Kartik can hear it in his small, windowless room. He feels confined, trapped in a box with the key thrown away. He accepts it though, for it at least it guarantees his safety. His captivity is essential, for he turned his back on his people, and they are not so forgiving of traitors. So he waits, alive but restless. Never one to appreciate incarceration, Kartik longs for nothing more than to be free from his sentence and from his room.

Well perhaps he longs for someone just a bit more. After all, it was for Gemma that this bird was locked away in a rusted cage, unable to do anything more than warble weakly at the world around him. But at least he still has a song in his heart. At least he still has her. After all, he gave up everything, all he has known his entire life, for her. She may be the forbidden fruit, but Kartik does not mind being cast out of Eden for a taste.

She is English, white-skinned and well-bred. He is Indian, illicit and exotic. Their liaison is forbidden, for debutantes just do not associate with heathens, so they keep it a secret. At least, it was a secret. In a rash act to save her, and perhaps himself, from their wrath, he ran into hiding. For now, he is safe. Her status keeps her safe, for now. For now…

They are friends; sometimes more, sometimes less. Their relationship is as complicated as relationships get, yet neither of them have the heart to end it. They need each other. Kartik cannot imagine his life without her clever mind and porcelain cheeks that turn pink whenever he is near. Gemma feels he is the only one that ever understood her, for surely he is the only one that appreciates when she is less than what a perfect lady should be. They need each other in ways they cannot, rather – will not realize, for neither have the nerve to tell the other. They try desperately to convince their stubborn hearts that it is just friendship. They could end it anytime, of course. Of course…

Their relationship threatens more than just a reputation or two; it's an addiction, more dangerous and fulfilling than opium. And thus, their struggles continue as they stubbornly try to convince themselves that they don't need one another. But if they didn't, as a part of them already knows, they'd have already ended it, for no one likes to be orphaned by disownment, and no one wants to be the reason for it.

Kartik paces his room, unable to think of anything that could pass the time. Outside, the storm rages, and he can't help but wish he was outside in it, for maybe a stray bolt of lightning would finish him off from this cruel existence. But he dismisses the idea as soon as it enters his tormented head, for part of him knows she still needs him. He longs for a time when perhaps she'd give up her life for him too, as he'd already done for her.

So now he waits for her, and he does not wait in vain. Like clockwork, she sweeps into his room weekly, an angel that distracts him from his daily hell, if only for an hour or two. How she manages to sneak away, he doesn't know, but the mere fact that she does is a godsend. He loves noting personal changes about her, a new hairstyle, different gloves, what she wears…All seem to keep him present in the world, instead of falling behind.

She talks to him, telling him about social calls and daily life. He notes her accomplishments fondly and grieves with her when all hope seems lost. As much as she tells him, she does not speak of personal issues. And he does not ask.

What he does ask is if there is hope for him. Her face grows solemn and she places a hand on his forearm. "There is always hope, Kartik," she says. "I would never leave such a friend behind." He bows his head wearily but gratefully. His imprisonment has changed him, for he is no longer sure of himself, no longer the bright, confident young man he once was. _Wasn't his sacrifice enough for her? Was it all just in vain?_ He needs her constant reassurance, something she is always more than willing to give. After all, she knows she is in his debt.

This meeting is different. Though their routine commences normally, the air around them is pregnant with anxiety. Something is changing, and whatever liminal state that contains them threatens to burst. Kartik knows it; he can see it on her face. He wants to ask what is going to happen to them, but he is afraid. Afraid of being pushed away, afraid of losing her forever. Not like he ever _really_ had her in the first place.

Their hour comes to a close and Gemma readies herself to leave. Kartik watches in silence as he prepares to see her walk out of his life for the last time. Gemma reaches the door with a final glance back at him, standing solitary as the world around him crashes. _Say something, please. _Gemma longs for the time when he would never shut up, always happily babbling on about nonsense, always drawing a smile across her features. They were once carefree, naïve enough to believe their friendship a forever sort of thing.

Things have changed. She mourns for him, dead to the world and slowly losing himself within these stone walls. He always had such an active mind, but she knows her weekly exercises are not enough for him. They used to debate cleverly about caste and fate.

"Do you believe that some people are destined to do greater things than others?" he once asked.

"No, I believe people choose their destiny." she replied.

"You cannot choose skin color."

"Will that stop you from doing great things?"

"What could I possibly do that could be considered great?" He rakes his slender fingers through inky black curls.

"Don't you see it?" she asks, closing her eyes briefly. "It is a trap."

"Perhaps," he says softly. "But isn't it easier to believe that all things are preordained?"

"Are you implying that I should be happy to become nothing more than an obedient housewife, because I was born a woman?" Frustration rakes her fair features.

Her spunk always brought a smile to his lips. "Touché."

But now she can't be there for him as much as she wishes she could. She feels as though she is losing her best friend, her most loyal companion.

Kartik feels it too. He longs desperately for her to save him, but he laughs inwardly, bitterly at the notion. _Since when have I needed saving?_ But even as he thinks it, he knows it is true. His stubbornness will no longer serve him. He needs her to _know_.

"Gemma," he says, his voice cutting a swath across the thick silence. "What can I say that will make you stay?"

She stops, relieved, yet full of despair. She knows what she'd like for him to say. She wants him to say that, even though he was trapped, he was still her hero. That, even though she was engaged to another man, they could still be friends. That, even though she was leaving London, he would still follow her as he always had, leaving her cryptic messages and knowing smiles that always reminded her that she wasn't alone. She clears her throat delicately, fighting off the tears that threaten to betray her cool demeanor.

"Try me."

Kartik chooses his words carefully. "I still need you," he says, the welling in his throat distorting his voice. He awaits her answer with bated breath, and watches as she breaks down. The tears flow freely down both their cheeks as they throw all pretenses aside and cling to each other for dear life.

The storm that rages outside is not comparable to the whirlwind in that tiny room. Together, they drown in tearstained kisses and caresses, fighting against the currents that try to pull them apart. Years of lying and denying have taken their toll on Kartik and Gemma, and soon the currents pull them in over their heads.

When the storm dies down, they lay next to each other on his bed, saying nothing, looking at the ceiling with wide frightened eyes. He longs to hold her, but something about the way she clutches the sheets to her breast tells him not to. They lay like that for a long time, drinking in the reality of what has happened, and basking in the catharsis it has brought.

The sound of rain once again reaches Kartik's troubled ears, and the sight of Gemma's tears trickling down her flushed cheeks reaches his troubled eyes. "I am sorry," he says, unsure of what he is sorry for. But then again, Kartik isn't very sure of anything anymore. He just wants her to stop crying. He reaches for her hand, desperate to stop the flow of tears that threaten to fill the miniscule room. She yanks it away, sobbing harder.

The torrent of tears challenges the pounding rain, and Kartik is left swimming for the surface again. Gemma's mouth has become a spout, gushing talk of moving away and marriage, of change and loneliness, of growing up and moving on, and how through it all, she still needs him as well.

Something in Kartik changes. He has the answer he has been looking for, and it gives him a renewed strength. He sees the sunlight sparkling on the surface and he reaches for it, kicking furiously through the raging waters. _There is no more need for all these tears_. He seals off her mouth with a tender kiss, stopping the flow that nearly killed them. "Come," he says, wrapping his arms around her, relishing the smooth skin of her back. "We are going to make it."

Her eyes see him through the watery surface and she takes hold of him gratefully. With almost no effort at all, he pulls her up and onto dry land, where they celebrate their victory against the elements that once threatened to finish them off. What does it matter if they are shunned by society and alone? If they must be doomed, at least they have each other to fall back on to. This realization breaks out like a fire. It grows and grows, drying all the rain and tears, leaving nothing but warmth in its wake. This time they lay in each other's arms, shipwrecked, but alive.

**I really miss creative writing,  
LunaEquus**

**(Reviews? Is it better?)**


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